our spiritual nature in many pieces
the hard counting of ice crystals our last meal was it eaten in haste
was it the altered transcendence of calm as skinebirds
wrestled in nightbane how
they worried for the souls of children locked in
closets how their tiny songs reverberated and muddled and snapped
at betraying symbols of the hundredth yewbranch the
malnourished among us without definable
features whose belief in god the impartial fisher a patient woman
to glue stones on our eyes why we chase
doppelgangers why we wear
flakes of pink corrosion dance with matches in the darkness pause
for no discernible reason not in the pursuit of the
abstract lost to wrenching thoughts but simultaneously
understood that the same
can be said of the people who came before us they and they
found peace with prisms and they
and
